A Country Divided
by Shadow and Phoenix
Summary: “Francis, I would like you to meet Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy, the lady of occupied France.” rated for violence and heavily implied rape
1. Chapter 1

_He wasn't sure why he was there; the rest of the allies wouldn't have bothered.  
_

-------_January 27__th__, Present day-------_

The snow crunched softly as a solitary blonde made his way between the rows of graves in a small cemetery in southern France. He eventually stopped on a slight hill about halfway down a row. Bending over he reached out a hand to brush the snow off the name.

_Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy_

Though Francis had known about Aliz before the war, he didn't meet her face to face until his surrender to Ludwig.

-------_Compiègne_,_ France June 22, 1940--------_

Francis looked across the table at Ludwig, who was currently signing the surrender armistice, before glancing around. Francis had been in this railroad car before, but as a member of a winning alliance, not a surrendering nation. Ludwig had deliberately chosen this spot as a humiliation; to get Francis back for the humiliating treaty he had forced Ludwig to sign in the same spot in 1918.

The soft rustle of paper brought Francis' thoughts back to the situation at hand, as Ludwig pushed the paper and a pen across the table. Despite the unease Francis had been feeling since the capture of Paris, he knew he had to sign.

Reluctantly Francis picked up the pen and signed his name. As soon as he set the pen down though, Francis stood and left the rail car.

"Francis, wait." Ludwig had just emerged from the car.

"_Quoi_?" Francis turned.

"I want you to meet someone." Ludwig said as a young teen stepped out from behind him.

Francis inhaled sharply as he noticed that she shared the same honey-gold waves as him. She also shared the trait of blue eyes, though the shade was closer to Ludwig's.

"Francis, I would like you to meet Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy, the lady of occupied France. Ludwig paused for a second. "And I believe from the last name, your cousin."

"_Oui._" Francis extended a hand to take Aliz's in his. Leaning over he kissed the back of it. "It is wonderful to finally make your acquaintance."

"I could say the same." Aliz said before giving Francis a quick peck on each cheek. Aliz gave Ludwig a quick glance before whispering. "And I'm sorry you have to take orders from a nation much younger and more inexperienced than you."

Francis sighed. "Don't blame yourself, like you said; you're still too young to understand completely.

_-------Paris, France December 7, 1941-------_

There was a clang as metal met metal and sparks flew. Francis and Gilbert broke apart, glaring at each other.

Francis had disappeared shortly after the signing of the surrender armistice and Gilbert had spent months trying to find him. Eventually Gilbert had traced Francis to Paris on information from trusted friends. There was no way Francis was getting away this time.

Gilbert charged again, aiming for Francis' side. Francis was ready though, blocking Gilbert's blade before it could do any damage, knocking it aside, and aiming a retaliatory blow at Gilbert's shoulder.

The Prussian's sharp tongue and sharper sword had found some of Francis's weaknesses and the next second Francis had dropped his sword, pressing a hand to his shoulder where blood was staining his coat. Gilbert rested the point of his sword against the hollow of Francis' throat.

"I win. You're a German acquisition now."

-------_Present day-------_

Francis had been forced to live under her for four years, forced to feel the pain his people suffered at German hands. And yet…

"I miss you, _mon cherie_."

Aliz had cared about him even though she represented the German occupation of France.

_**-------Omake-------**_  
-------_December 7th 1941_-------

Alizea dodged out of the way as Francis aimed for her shoulder, quickly circling so they were once again facing each other.

As far as Alizea was concerned, the only good thing about Francis's and her confinement to the house was the extra time to practice swordsmanship. The result being that Alizea had been coming closer to disarming Francis with each session.

The last time Alizea had practiced with Francis she had figured out a possible strategy but couldn't put it into action. This time would be different.

When Francis charged her again, Alizea sidestepped out of the way, catching the blade of Francis's sword between the outermost petals of the _fleur de lis_. A flick of the wrist later Francis's sword had gone skittering across the carpet and the tip of Alizea's sword was resting against Francis's neck. Francis's shock lasted for only a minute before he smiled.

"Alright, I surrender." Alizea sheathed her sword and went to retrieve Francis's before speaking.

"Looks like I'm finally as good as you."

"Maybe. That's still only the first time you've done it," Francis said as Alizea handed him his sword and Francis sheathed it again.

"I'll do it again, just wait." Alizea said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. A sudden knock on the door startled both of them, and a moment later one of the resistance's security personnel had come in.

"Jeanne wants both of you downstairs now." Francis and Alizea exchanged worried glances before heading downstairs.

"What happ- Antonio!?" Entering the room, Francis changed direction mid sentence as he noticed Matthew holding a green eyed, brown haired male in a tan colored uniform.

"We found him trying to sneak into headquarters; he said he needed to speak to you Francis." Matthew said, the tone of his voice making it clear that, for the moment, he didn't trust the Spaniard.

"Antonio, what are you doing here?" Francis asked. "I know you're a neutral country, but are you not putting yourself in harm's way by coming here?"

"I'll be okay. I'm here because I wanted to make sure that Paris was okay. But the more important matter is that you may be in danger."

"How?" Francis asked worriedly. Antonio started to answer but was cut off by Matthew.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Francis glared at him.

"Antonio wouldn't be helping me if he was on Ludwig's side. And I would appreciate it if you would let him go; he hasn't done anything to you."

Reluctantly, Matthew let go of Antonio. He still didn't fully trust the Spaniard, but something in Francis's tone said that he was a friend and wouldn't do anything to put Francis or Alizea in danger.

"Antonio, continue please." Alizea started slightly. Under the calm, collected nature Francis usually displayed, there was a hint of panic.

"Gilbert called about a week ago to complain about how hard it's been to find you, and during the conversation I mentioned that I'd seen someone who looked similar in Paris. Gil hung up almost immediately afterward, and I have a nasty feeling he's headed here." Antonio paused. "You have to get out of Paris, Francis."

Francis froze for half a second, at a loss for words, before glancing at Alizea. Antonio followed his gaze.

"I'll get her to safety." Francis glanced back, relief flickering across his face for the briefest of seconds.

"_Merci._" Antonio managed a weak smile, but didn't lose his seriousness.

"You're welcome. Now get ready. Gilbert could be in the city already." Francis nodded.

"Let's go."

"Use the back; you won't be spotted as easily." Jeanne called as Francis, Alizea, and Antonio sprinted up the stairs. In their room Francis and Alizea donned their swords and traveling cloaks, Alizea noticing a flicker of worry cross Francis' face when he traced the rose engraved on his sword handle.

Outside the room they rejoined Antonio, and the three of them headed for the back door of the house. Once outside they quickly crossed the yard, heading for the back gate. Antonio pushed it open a crack and glanced around the back ally.

"All clear, let's go."

Antonio had just closed the gate behind them when he spotted a small yellow chick sitting on the fence across from them. Antonio paled slightly and pulled Alizea behind a stack of crates and broken furniture leaning against the fence.

"Francis Run! Gilbert's here!"

"Too late," someone chuckled darkly.

Francis whipped around to see a red eyed, platinum blonde wearing a Prussian blue uniform standing a few feet away. He was accompanied by two other men wearing German SS uniforms.

"Don't make this difficult."

"I'm not going to surrender that easily Gilbert."

"Then you leave me no choice." Gilbert drew his sword. "You're not getting away from me this time Francis."

Francis just had time to draw his sword and raise it into a defensive position before Gilbert charged at him.

There was a clang as metal met metal and sparks flew. Francis and Gilbert broke apart, glaring at each other.

Gilbert charged again, aiming for Francis's side. Francis was ready though, blocking Gilbert's blade before it could do any damage, knocking it aside, and aiming a retaliatory blow at Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert caught Francis's sword, and for a moment the two were face to face.

"You're getting slow, old man. Or are you worried that you'll slip up again and kill someone else?"

Gilbert smirked at the flicker of shock in Francis's eyes before pushing Francis's blade away. Francis took a step back, stumbling slightly, and Gilbert saw his opportunity. Before Francis could recover Gilbert had lunged, aiming for Francis's shoulder. Francis couldn't get his sword back up in time.

Behind the crates Alizea had to clap a hand to her mouth to stifle her scream. Antonio set a free hand on her shoulder.

The next second Francis had dropped his sword, pressing a hand to his shoulder where blood was staining his coat. Gilbert rested the point of his sword against the hollow of Francis' throat.

"I win. You're a German acquisition now." Gilbert turned to one of the officers accompanying him. "Restrain him."

"Why?" Francis asked angrily as the officer pulled his arms behind his back and tied his wrists.

"Because I can't have you running off with your tail between your legs. You've done it enough that I'd wager you're pretty good at it." Gilbert muttered, sheathing his sword and moving to stand in front of Francis. The Prussian drove his fist up into Francis's ribcage with a great deal of force.

"That was for making me look all over France for you." Gilbert said, bringing his arm down on Francis's neck sharply, sending him to his knees. A swift kick to the face sent him sprawling. Gilbert rolled Francis onto his side none to gently with a booted foot.

He turned away from Francis, walking a couple steps to the fence where the bird was perched. The bird gave a happy chirp and fluttered to rest on Gilberts shoulder. Gilbert walked back to Francis, who was trying to sit up. Gilbert drove his foot into Francis's gut, full force.

"That was just because I felt like it." Gilbert said, smirking. He put one foot in the middle of Francis's chest and leaned his forearms on it. "How's it feel to be under the awesome Prussia, scum?"

When Alizea tried to run out from her hiding place, Antonio held her back.

"We'll be putting ourselves in danger if we try to help Francis now, the important thing is to get you to safety, and hope for the best."

Francis coughed, the weight of Gilbert's foot forcing the air out of his lungs and crushing his chest. Gilbert laughed madly, leaning more weight on his foot before letting up suddenly and grabbing Francis by the hair. Francis gritted his teeth in pain as Gilbert hauled him to his feet and pushed him out of the alley way, kicking him in the back when he moved too slowly for Gilbert's tastes.

Antonio held Alizea back until Gilbert, Francis, and the German soldiers were well out of sight. Alizea stopped fighting to get away and Antonio wrapped an arm around her shoulders to guide her away from Paris.

"Don't worry. The Allies will find a way to rescue him. Right now, all you can do is keep yourself and your sisters safe while this blows over. You can stay at my house for a while, it will be safer there."

_**-------Author's Notes-------**_  
Author - Phoenix / Beta - Shadow

Sorry that this chapter is devilishly long, there wasn't really a good stopping point in the middle.

Francis - Why did you have to break away from the Bad Touch Trio, Gilbert? Antonio and I are still friends.  
Gilbert - I'm just too awesome to associate with the like of you, now that you can't pull your own in a war.  
Francis - Why you-! I'm not as much of a coward as you seem to think I am!  
Gilbert - So you do admit that you're a coward?  
Antonio - Thanks for reading and please review. I have to go break up that fight.


	2. Chapter 2

_-------Vichy France 1943--------_

Aliz hadn't seen Francis for a week, but she was also bored, which was the reason why she was exploring Ludwig's basement. She had just stepped off the last step of the basement stairs when she spotted Gilbert emerging from one of the doors along the corridor, smiling and humming to himself.

As soon as Gilbert had disappeared up the stairs Aliz walked over the door Gilbert had just left, registering vaguely that it was the one Ludwig had told her not to go into.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Aliz pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and began to fiddle with the lock on the door. A few seconds later it clicked.

Aliz pushed the door open and screamed.

Francis was lying motionless on the floor, wrists bound behind his back. A crimson puddle was spreading outwards from multiple wounds, including a deep cut above his right eye, staining his coat and the ends of his hair. The rose Francis always carried was lying above his head, stem broken, petals scattered and torn.

"FRANCIS!"

A second later Aliz had dashed across the room and knelt by her cousin's side, not caring about the blood seeping her skirt. As she brushed a strand of hair off Francis' face, she heard footsteps in the corridor.

"Tsk, you've ruined the surprise, poking your head where it doesn't belong." Gilbert muttered from the doorway. "I'm not done with the bastard yet, he's still breathing."

"Why?"

"What? Why all that? It's called interrogation _liebig_. Get used to it."

"What kind of information needed that much force? And if he's a nation, shouldn't he be getting more respect than this?"

"None of your damn business little girl. And if _mein Führer_ has his way, he won't be a nation much longer anyway. Why do you think you exist?"

"I…I don't know…"

"And I don't give enough of a flying fuck to explain. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about."

"Aliz, what are you doing down here?" A second figure with blonde hair and sky blue eyes had appeared in the doorway.

"Snooping's what. Evening _Bruder_." Gilbert pushed past Ludwig, whistling under his breath again and grinning. "I think I'll pay 'Laine a visit."

"Do you want to tell me why you broke one of the only rules I gave you?"

"Well, I was bored so I went exploring and saw Gilbert come out of that room smiling, so…Besides, I haven't seen my cousin for a week and I was looking for him."

Ludwig sighed.

"Come with me. My boss has business to discuss with me and I can't have you wandering around causing anymore trouble while I'm busy."

Aliz sighed before whispering to Francis.

"I promise I'll protect you, even if it costs me my life.

_**-------Omake------- (Warning - Mature Themes)**_  
_-------Vichy France July 14, 1943-------_

"Yes, right away sir."

Ludwig set the phone back on the cradle and headed for the basement. Since Gilbert had questioned Francis last, today was Ludwig's turn.

As he stepped off the basement stairs, Ludwig reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to Francis's cell. Walking a little ways down the hall, Ludwig unlocked a door, pushed it open, and froze.

Gilbert had Francis naked and pinned against the wall. Gilbert was still mostly clothed, probably, Ludwig suspected, because he felt more powerful that way. Oddly, The Nation of Love didn't seem to be enjoying himself. Francis moaned when Gilbert thrust into him true enough, however they were moans of pain, not pleasure.

It didn't take long for Francis to realize Ludwig was watching Gilbert and himself and his body immediately flushed a faint scarlet. Gilbert either hadn't noticed or was just ignoring Ludwig.

Francis's eyes glazed with fear and he backed slightly into the wall, attempting to get Gilbert out of him. He was stopped by Gilbert's hands on his hips and a particularly painful thrust. Tears welled up in the corners of Francis's eyes.

"Gilbert,_ s'il te plait_...pull out...it hurts..."

"It wouldn't be torture if it didn't hurt _liebig_." Gilbert muttered softly.

Pushing in forcefully Gilbert smirked with pleasure at Francis' cry of pain. Snaking an arm between them, Gilbert wrapped his free hand around Francis's manhood. Francis tensed at Gilbert's touch. Gilbert cackled quietly.

"You're all wet…are you really going to come this quickly Francis?" Francis's flush deepened.

"_Oui._" If only Ludwig wasn't watching, it wouldn't be so bad.

"Go on then…" Gilbert muttered in Francis's ear, fingers slowly stroking Francis's length. Francis came soon after that, soaking the front of Gilbert's shirt, moaning softly. A second later Francis felt Gilbert come inside him, groaning in pleasure.

Gilbert stayed inside Francis for only a moment before pulling away. Francis crumpled against the wall, mentally and physically exhausted. Gilbert fastened his pants, grabbed his jacket and headed out of the room smiling.

"He's all yours _Bruder_."

As the door closed, Ludwig walked over to where Francis was leaning against the wall, picking Francis' coat off the floor. Crouching he offered it to the still naked Frenchman. Though Francis was clearly afraid, he still accepted the coat, tugging it over his still flushed body.

"I have a question for you."

_**-------Author's Notes-------**_  
Author - Phoenix / Beta - Shadow

Francis: Why do you like torturing me so much?  
Phoenix: I'm only reporting history, and you're supposed to be unconscious...  
Gilbert: Beats being bored out of my skull.  
Shadow: Don't look at me, I'm just the beta.  
Francis: You didn't have to drug me...  
Gilbert: Eh, orders are orders. It would have been more fun if you were conscious for all the things I did to you.  
Francis: And just what would those things be?  
Gilbert: Wouldn't you like to know~


	3. Chapter 3

-------_Vichy France June 6__th__ 1944-------_

Aliz had seen Gilbert and Ludwig talking in hushed tones more frequently in the past few weeks. From the snatches of conversation she caught she was able to figure out that the allies were getting closer. However the worst news came one night as Aliz was passing the Axis meeting room.

"…depriving me of my punching bag. Which one is he going to?"

"Auschwitz."

Outside the door Aliz clapped a hand to her mouth, but not in time to stifle her gasp. Inside the room the voices stopped abruptly. The next second Gilbert had slammed the door open.

"Thought I smelled this rat sneaking around. Hearing things she shouldn't." Gilbert's hand strayed towards the knife sheathed at his hip. Ludwig grabbed Gilbert's wrist. "Behave yourself, _bruder_. She's still worth more to us alive."

"Hmph. I suppose that's true. Still, it's far past time for little girls to be in their beds. Shoo brat."

Aliz was lucky in the fact that Gilbert and Ludwig soon came up to bed as well. She waited until the room next door was silent before slipping in and taking one of the guns of the bedside table. While she kept her eyes in the two men in the bed, she didn't really register anything besides the fact that they weren't moving. What she put in the beer must have worked. She slipped out of the room and braced the door with some small pieces of wood jammed between the door and frame. As soon as she was sure the door was relatively secure, Aliz was sneaking quietly down to the basement and Francis' cell. Drawing the gun from her belt, Aliz took careful aim and fired.

Upstairs Ludwig bolted up in bed. At least, he tried to.

"Gilbert." Ludwig prodded the albino draped over him with his free hand.

"Gilbert! Get off!" Ludwig tried to roll his brother off the bed. Sighing, Ludwig gulped down as much air as he could with the dead weight crushing his ribcage and yelled.

"GILBERT! Get off me!" Ludwig head butted Gilbert in the face. The albino jumped and landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"_Mein Gott_ Ludwig! What the fuck do you want?" Gilbert clutched at his head. "Motherfucking son of a bitch. That little bitch put something in the fucking beer."

"Now's not the time Gil. Someone was shooting in the basement." Ludwig was already up and pulling his pants on, reaching for the gun on the bedside table. Gilbert swore, grabbing his pants as well.

"Where the fuck's my gun Ludwig?" Gilbert demanded, zipping up his pants. "I'll bet that little bitch stole it."

Gilbert drew his knife moving to open the door. It didn't budge.

"I don't have time for this shit." Gilbert swore, kicking the door open. Ludwig pushed in front of his brother, running down the stairs. He turned a corner, Gilbert right behind him knife drawn.

The door to Francis' cell was ajar and a battered Frenchman was leaning against the door frame.

_Knowing she didn't have much time, Aliz hurried over to where Francis lay on the floor and untied his hands. At her touch Francis started and opened his eyes._

"_Aliz… _qui est vous_?" Francis had to be suffering to be speaking in his native language. _

"_Not now, both our lives could be in danger. Let's go."_

"Je ne peux pas bouger_, Gilbert _m'a gardé drogué_." Aliz sighed and draped Francis' arm over her shoulder, half carrying-half dragging Francis up the stairs._

_Aliz could hear Ludwig yelling at Gilbert through the barricaded door. As soon as Aliz was in her room she heaved Francis onto the bed, pulled off his coat, and began undoing his shirt._

"_Quoi-"_

"_We look so similar they won't realize until it's too late." Aliz switched their shirts. "Also I need your pants."_

_Francis tried to protest but Aliz put a finger to his lips._

"_You've done so much to keep me safe, now it's my turn. You're more important than I am to the survival of France. And I said that I'd protect you with my life. "_

_Aliz pulled on Francis' pants and coat and quickly dressed him in her clothes, blushing faintly when she had to put on the skirt. The yelling from Gilbert and Ludwig's room was rife with obscenities, so Aliz knew that Gilbert was awake. She would have to be fast. Aliz leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Francis' forehead. _

"_Try to keep out of trouble, cousin. I love you."_

_Aliz turned and ran out of the room, heading for the basement. Halfway downstairs Aliz's tongue ghosted over her lips and she tasted blood._

"_Oh right…I forgot about that deta-"Aliz tumbled down the stairs in a flurry of limbs. A few inches away from her hand was a small knife._

"_I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm so glad Gilbert leaves his shit everywhere."_

_Aliz raised the blade to her forehead, gritting her teeth in anticipation. The thundering of feet on the stairs startled Aliz, the knife biting into her skin and leaving a long gash. She dropped the knife and staggered towards Francis' cell, stumbling into the doorway._

"Motherfucker, he shouldn't be able to move yet!" Gilbert swore as Ludwig trained his gun on the disguised Aliz.

"The Allies probably sent someone to rescue him. You deal with him. I'll look for the intruder."

"Bullshit, you baby-sit the pathetic meat sack; I'm going after whatever jackass that has enough balls to break in."

"You don't have a gun Gil." Ludwig said calmly.

"Fuck." Gilbert sheathed his knife and kicked Aliz into the cell as Ludwig ran off on his search.

_**-------Omake -------**__  
-------Vichy France, July 1943-------  
_  
Francis looked up when the door opened, and immediately fought to free himself from the chair he was tied to. Gilbert had a gleam in his eyes that meant trouble. The bloodthirsty Prussian was fingering the barrel of a syringe filled with some undoubtedly vile substance.

"So. Good news, Francis. I'm going to untie you." Gilbert said, practically humming to himself. He was walking over to stand in front of Francis. "Bad news is that you won't wear through these for a couple days."

A second later Gilbert had stuck the syringe into Francis's arm. Francis struggled for the briefest moment before succumbing to the drugs.

As soon as he was sure Francis couldn't fight back, Gilbert untied Francis, kicking the drugged nation onto the floor. At the sudden collision with the floor, Francis's eyes fluttered open. Gilbert was smirking, a hand resting on the knife sheathed at his hip. Francis's eyes glazed over with fear.

"Gilbert. Don't -"

"Too late Francis, I've already severed ties with you." Gilbert said, unsheathing his knife. Francis closed his eyes just seconds before he felt a burning line on his hip. The combination of the drugs in his system and the pain of the knife caused him to black out.

_**-------Author's Notes-------**_  
Author - Phoenix / Beta - Shadow


	4. Chapter 4

_-------Paris, France June 14__th__ 1945-------_

Finally back in Paris-and dressed in his own clothes- Francis was looking over the files on the damage done by the Axis powers when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

A second later Alfred walked in carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. He looked severely shaken, more than most of the other nations who had been involved in the war.

"What happened?" Alfred hesitated for a second, bracing himself.

"I'm sorry Francis…Ivan found Aliz on the list of those who died at Auschwitz." Alfred gestured to the package he had just set down on Francis' desk. "And he found that when searching the camp."

Hands shaking slightly Francis removed the string and pulled back the brown paper to reveal the blood stained uniform that Aliz had been wearing the day she had switched places with him. Instantly Francis' eyes filled with tears. If there was one thing that could prove Aliz wasn't coming back it was this.

Alfred put a hand on Francis' shoulder, feeling the Frenchman's silent sobs under his palm.

"Francis, Aliz left you a letter…if that helps…" Alfred muttered, pulling an envelope from the folds of the coat. Francis glanced up at Alfred before talking the letter and opening it, briefly noticing the name on the outside. Aliz V. Bonnefoy. It made sense though; using her name wouldn't have alerted Gilbert and Ludwig to the switch.

_Francis,_

_First off, I want you to know that my death was natural, or as natural as is possible for a nation. It is also somewhat of a release, as I've been sick since June 6__th__, the day your friends landed at Normandy. I took your place because I knew I wouldn't last and you needed to survive so your nation could. _

_I don't regret my decision. When I found out what was really going on, I wanted nothing more than to stop it. I know you won't forget me._

_Your loving cousin,_

_Aliz Vichy Bonnefoy_

_-------Present day-------_

The letter had helped a little, though it still had taken months for Francis to fully recover. Francis was also pleased that Gilbert and Ludwig had to answer to the atrocities they had committed during the war.

_-------Nuremberg Germany, November 21st 1945------_

Francis glanced around the courtroom as he took his seat next between Arthur and Matthew. Ivan was sitting next to Arthur, and Alfred was on Ivan's other side. Across the room, Gilbert and Ludwig were sitting in their own box, closely watched over by Vash and Elizaveta.

The rest of the countries were sitting at one end of the courtroom behind a short fence.

The rustle of paper brought Francis back to the present and a few seconds later Arthur had officially opened the trial.

"Ludwig, as the German Reich, you stand accused of participation in a common plan or conspiracy for the accomplishment of crime against peace, planning, initiating and waging wars of aggression, war crimes, and crimes against humanity. Gilbert, as the Nation of Prussia, you are charged as above as well as with the torture and murder of a nation. Do you have anything to say in your own defense?"

"I was under orders." Ludwig muttered.

"Besides that, they deserved it." Gilbert added.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced at Ivan. Ivan nodded and climbed off the bench, rolled a TV to the center of the room and pressed play. As the screen flickered to life images of starved people wearing black and white striped uniforms, and pits filled with bodies, so thin the ribs were visible.

"Even them?"

Ludwig glanced down, unable to answer. Gilbert however was anything but remorseful.

"Damn right." Alfred looked up.

"You're heartless Gilbert." Gilbert smirked. Francis glared at him.

"You couldn't hear them…I could hear and feel my people. When you were torturing me, I was screaming for them as well as myself."

Arthur glanced around before speaking again.

"Based on the evidence presented, I can conclude that you are both guilty on all the charges. Ludwig you will have to return all captured territory and pay to help liberated countries get back on their feet. As for Gilbert…"

"I have a suggestion." Immediately all eyes turned to Francis. "Since Gilbert took the life of another nation, it seems only fair that he shouldn't be a nation either…"

"WHAT!"

There was a gentle murmur as Arthur, Alfred, Ivan, and Matthew all considered the legitimacy of Francis' suggestion. A minute later Arthur spoke again.

"Francis is right Gilbert. From now on you will be known as East Germany and will be under Russia's care."

As Francis and the others gathered up their things, Prussia called across the room.

"_Ich sehe, dass Sie andere Leute zu Ihrer Rettung wieder Francis kommen lassen. Es ist ein Mitleid, das Sie nie im Stande sein werden, ein durch sich selbst zu gewinnen._"

Though most of the nations in the room couldn't understand German, most of them knew from Gilbert's tone that whatever he said to Francis wasn't flattery. Francis stiffened.

"_J'ai gagné tout seul avant l'Allemagne de l'Est_."

_-------Present day-------_

Francis shivered as a chill wind blew across the cemetery, pulling his over cape closer to his body. Straightening slightly, Francis pulled the rose he always carried from inside his coat and placed it gently on the grave, whispering a prayer in French.

Straightening up, Francis brushed the snow off his pants and headed out of the cemetery.

From her grave, Aliz watched Francis for a minute, smiling sadly, before picking up the rose and vanishing into the gently falling snow.

_**-------Omake-------**_  
-------_Paris underground resistance headquarters, July 2, 1941_-------

Alizea Ile de France Bonnefoy, a golden blond with an odd little curl and cerulean eyes, had heard the whispers. She knew that France had been forced to surrender; however she had also heard the leaders of the resistance discussing a plan to help the nation get back on its feet. A plan that also seemed to involve getting a certain person back to Paris unnoticed.

About a week ago a small team had left for southern France, and if the whispered conversations Alizea had heard were anything to go by, would be getting back that day.

Today was the first time Alizea had ever been in the main meeting room, and she suspected it was because of the plan from a week ago. Even though she represented _Ile de France_, Alizea was never allowed into the meetings, usually picking everything up from friends or overheard conversations.

The meeting room wasn't that different from the rest of the house they were operating out of except for a slightly more ornate table and chairs, and heavier curtains on the windows. Besides hers, three other chairs were occupied.

A soft knock on the door caught everyone's attention.

"Come in."

A second later the door opened and three people entered, all of them wearing traveling cloaks. Two had their hoods down and Alizea recognized them as a set of twins that worked on the security team. Alizea was unsure of the third until he lowered his hood. Alizea had had a feeling she knew who was coming, but there was no doubt now. Only one person had that honey-blond hair and cerulean blue eyes; Francis Bonnefoy, the Republic of France.

"Papa!"

A second later Alizea had stood and crossed the room and tackled Francis.

"Alizea, what are you doing here?" Francis asked steadying himself from the impact.

"Keeping an eye on the people of Paris from the shadows. The resistance took me in after the government fled Paris and took you with them."

Before Francis could respond a soft female voice interrupted them.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but can we get introductions out of the way before you get too wrapped up in family affairs?" Francis looked slightly ashamed.

"Yes, continue please."

"Thank you." Alizea glanced over at the speaker. She was a dirty blond, green eyed young woman who reminded Alizea of one of Francis' friends from England. "The first thing you need to know before we introduce ourselves is that we don't use last names. This is so our families and relatives can't be targeted. My name is Jeanne and I'm the chosen leader of this organization."

"This is Mathieu, he's in charge of our espionage team," Jeanne said gesturing to the brown haired male on her right. "And that's Jacky; she's the head of security." The black haired woman on Jeanne's other side inclined her head.

"The four of us are also the only ones who know that you are the personification of France; I would like it to stay that way."

"I understand."

"Then we'll leave you to catch up."

Jeanne, Mathieu, and Jacky all stood and left. As soon as the three had left Francis turned back to Alizea.

"I know you're safe, but what about your sisters?"

"They're safe in England, the government managed to get them out before they fled. But you have no idea how hard it is to get eighteen girls out of the country."

Francis sighed with relief. At least the rest of his family was safe.

-------_Paris, France, July 14, 1940_-------

When Alizea had woken up that morning, she hadn't expected to see a single red rose and a folded note resting on her pillow.

Curious, Alizea sat up in bed, picked up the note and opened it.

_Alizea  
I figured it's about time you learned how to defend yourself, I'm downstairs.  
-Francis_

Alizea's heart leapt. She dressed quickly, making sure to cover her arms. If Alizea's suspicions about which weapon she would be learning with were right, she needed as much cover as possible.

Grabbing her gloves from her dresser, Alizea hurried out of her room and down the hall toward the basement command center.

When Alizea opened the door, the first thing she saw was a girl with short dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. She was talking to Francis who currently had his fingers pressed to his temple.

"Alaine Normandy Bonnefoy, how did you manage to cross the channel undetected?" Francis asked, both amusement and admonishment in his voice.

"I borrowed a skill of yours."

"Which one, _mon cherie_?" Francis seemed to have forgotten for a moment that Alaine wasn't supposed to be in Paris.

"Cross-dressing." Francis started to reply, but was cut off.

"Alaine!" Alizea had hurried across the room to hug her sister. "Shouldn't you be in England?"

"I can take care of myself." Alaine glanced at Francis. "And you might not have gotten your birthday present otherwise."

"I don't want to admit it, but she's probably right about the second one," Francis said picking something long, thin, and wrapped in what Alizea recognized as the flag of _Ile de France_ off the table next to him.

"And it was safer for this to travel with someone."

Alizea stepped forward to pull her flag off the end of the package Francis was offering to her. As the flag fell away a handle shaped like the _fleur de lis_, and a leather scabbard were revealed. Alizea gasped.

"I-is this really mine?" Francis smiled.

"I promised to show you how to handle a sword, and today that promise becomes your birthday gift. Jeanne said we can use the old dining room upstairs." Francis glanced at his other daughter. "I assume you brought your sword as well?"

Alaine laughed.

"I needed something to practice with, and I'm only a year away from being eighteen." Francis sighed.

"Point taken, let's go."

When they reached the old dining room, after Francis stopped off to collect his sword, Francis capped the swords with rubber protectors.

For the next two hours Francis had Alizea and Alaine go over basic foot positions and striking moves. Once they knew the basics, Alizea and Alaine took turns running basic drills with Francis. It was during these drills that Alizea noticed a dark stain near the tip of the blade. However she refrained from asking until Mathieu called them for lunch.

While Alizea dashed downstairs Alizea hung back.

"Papa, I couldn't help but notice the stain on your sword." Francis turned.

"I guess you're old enough to know. When I was still a teenager I accidentally killed another nation and I haven't been able to get the blood off my sword since." Francis swallowed before continuing. "It serves as a reminder to watch myself."

"I understand."

They were both silent for a minute before Alizea spoke up again, crossing to gently take Francis's arm.

"Let's get some lunch."_**  
**_

**-------**_**Author's Notes**_**-------  
**Author - Phoenix / Beta - Shadow

Translations:  
Gilbert: I see you're letting other people come to your rescue again Francis. It's a pity you'll never be able to win one by yourself.  
Francis: I've won on my own before now _East Germany_.  
Please provide corrections on those lines if you speak the language, because I'm sure that they aren't correct.


End file.
